


kiss me till i am sick of it

by TheOccasionalSquirrel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Fae & Fairies, Fae Lance (Voltron), Fairy Lance, Fairy Tale Elements, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Prince Keith (Voltron), and i know for a fact i wasted too much time on the setting, but these things bRING ME JOY, can i tag this as talented lance?, i tried for a bit of suspense, klance, lance plays the harp, they kiss a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:55:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22108189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOccasionalSquirrel/pseuds/TheOccasionalSquirrel
Summary: a blacksmith, an outcast, a boyand a beautiful melody in the forest
Relationships: Keith & Lance (Voltron), Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 93





	kiss me till i am sick of it

It started as a rumor.

Keith was a blacksmith and didn’t need rumors. He needed bread to feed himself and more ore to make his tools. And the townsfolk already looked at him weird for being a loner, the least he could do was be good enough at his job so that they showed him mercy and let him into their community.

And then,  _ it _ became a warning.

At first it was a few sheep gone missing, which Keith could dismiss as a wolf. But then it was a girl.  _ “Hotheaded Romelle,”  _ the people would tsk.  _ “Always getting herself into trouble. _ ”

But Keith could sense their sadness underneath. Could feel his own heart weigh heavy and his days turn blue. Blue as the river and red as hot iron. He painted a wooden sign saying he offered sword and knife fighting lessons, and kept to his store.

And yet, no matter how much Keith wanted to ignore it, it  _ persisted _ .

It became a threat. And no longer an “it”.

_ Fae _ .

Keith kept his ears covered, his head low. He made the townsfolk weapons out of iron and coated them in silver. And it was alright. He had work, the townsfolk didn’t bully him, he had bread and water and money for a new hat and gloves.

When Allura disappeared, the townsfolk were ready to burn down the forest looking for her.

Keith wrapped his scarf around him, tugged on his gloves, pulled on his hat low enough to cover his ears and hair, and removed the sign from his store. He took his favorite knives and some coins, he wrapped the bread he had leftover from the previous evening.

He crested the hill overlooking the town the same time as the sun had. Keith appreciated the star’s company as he watched the townsfolk burn his former store to the ground.

_ Fae _ .

Keith was a quarter of one, his mother had been a halfling. When he was smaller he wanted to wish his pointed ears and teeth away. Now, at twenty-two, he just wanted to make knives in peace. Something humans would never give him, something he was too afraid to ask of the fae. 

He made his way down the hill and through the sighing forest. He crossed the singing river just in time for the sun to set. He drank the sweet water and ate his hard bread, he thought of the fae before he made his bed.

The meadow sighed when Keith laid down, and he felt a phantom of its embrace. As if nature had missed him while he was staying at the human town. He shook his head at the nonsense thought and planned out tomorrow’s journey before going to sleep.

Fire chased him through his dreams. Embers, fire, flames eating away at everything and biting at his heels. Embers, fire,  _ smoke  _ obscuring his vision until he fell and he, too, was consumed by fire.

Keith woke up gasping for air, his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. He wanted to run, his mind playing tricks on him, saying everything was still on fire as he rampantly looked around for a threat. 

None.

None. 

He sighed, pressing a hand to his chest to calm himself. 

No threat.

Just moonlight and wind, and a soft, gentle melody.

_ ‘They were back’  _ Keith thought to himself, and then, immediately, _ ’They’re kidnapping a human again.’ _

He ran. Keith had been itching for a fight since the first insult was thrown at him in that last town, and fighting the fae that kidnapped his friends was the perfect opportunity.

He ran. From the fires and the towns and the ghost of his mother’s memory into another problem. He could manage fights, not thoughts.

The melody became louder, loud enough that Keith didn’t need to think. He only had to focus on the song and  _ there _ \- he broke through a cluster of trees and into a different meadow. 

It looked eerily similar to the one he had just been sleeping in⎯ down to the small bit of flattened grass where his sleeping mat would have been⎯ except for the boy playing his harp where the meadow meets the forest. His long silver hair fell down one shoulder in a loose braid, a soft, beautiful smile on his pink lips as he moved his fingers across the instrument’s strings.

The boy looked at Keith for a moment, his blue eyes like the night sky- filled with mystery and wonder. And Keith knows he must be dreaming, for such beauty doesn’t belong on Earth.

His knife slips out of his hand, lands on the ground with a soft thud. Keith is  _ enchanted _ . The way the boy plays is mesmerizing. As if the entire forest sways in tune with his song- there are fireflies dancing around and silver flowers blooming in the moonlit night. There is the wind, playing with the boy’s silver hair and Keith’s heart, because when it untangles the boy’s braid the scent of roses engulfs Keith and oh.

_ Oh. _

The boy is fae. A faerie. Keith notices the pointy ears peeking through the boy’s silver locks much like Keith’s own.

The faerie smiled and brought his song to an end.

“Would you like to hear another?” he offered, a smile playing on his lips.

“What will it cost me?” Keith asked.

“A kiss from your rose red lips, darling prince,” the fae said and Keith blushed.  _ Blushed.  _ He suddenly found that he was too close to the fae. Too close indeed, for he shouldn’t be able to count the freckles on the boy’s tanned face. Too close, because there was magic in the air, and that always brought out something reckless in Keith.

“I will give you,” he pretended to think. “ _ Two _ , if you tell me your name.”

“Three, and I will give you a ring to enter our realm,” the fae smirked.

“Four kisses, and you’ll tell me how to leave it,” and now it was Keith’s turn to smirk. He may not be good at words, but he’s heard enough about fairies to always know to demand a way out.

“Oh my darling prince,” the fae grinned as he rested his head against his harp. “I don’t think you’ll ever want to leave.”

“Is that a promise, sweet faerie?” Keith breathed, and oh.  _ Oh.  _ He really is too close, if he can already taste the faerie’s rose scent.

“Yes," the fae whispered, and kissed Keith’s smirk away. “That’s one,” the faerie chuckled, his voice a melody on its own. Keith cupped his face and kissed the fae again.

“Two,” Keith said, breaking the kiss. The fae brought a hand up the brush Keith’s hair away, and leaned in to whisper into his ear.

“You may call me Lance, sweet prince,” Lance revealed, and Keith’s heart skipped a beat. The fae’s name felt like a forbidden treasure, a secret for Keith to keep. Lance winked at him, sky blue eyes promising mischief and more kisses, and took Keith’s hand.

The sky exploded with butterflies, all of them silver and blue and glowing, but Lance’s eyes remained trained on Keith.

“Sweet indeed,” Lance murmured, leaning in to kiss Keith again.

Lance tasted like fever dreams and roses and Keith was scared of the eagerness with which he accepted the third kiss. His blood sang fire when they kissed, sang desire when Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s waist and spun them.

Keith’s world transformed into one of silver light and magic. And he looked up from Lance’s lips into the now colorful sky. He’d heard of strange auroras far up north, but he’d never seen a rainbow during the night and a sky so  _ dense _ with stars it looked as if Keith could pluck one right out of the night and place it into Lance’s long silver hair.

And then, Lance did just that. With an elegant sweep of his hand, he tucked a star behind Keith’s ear and smiled. “You’re beautiful,” Lance said, and Keith couldn’t help his blush.

“You may call me Keith, if you like.”

“Ah, but I enjoy watching you blush too much, my sweet prince,” Lance smiled softly and Keith brought up a hand to touch that soft smile, those lovely lips. Lance left a kiss on his finger.

“You have no more left.”

“Ah, about that,” Keith said, averting his gaze to Lance’s eyes instead of his lips. “May I have another?” he asked, and Lance smirked.

“Oh? And then what?” he raised an eyebrow.

“Another,” Keith said, a coy smile playing on his lips.

“And then?”

“Another.”

“Isn’t there something else you want, my sweet prince?” 

“Kiss me,” Keith said, sweet yearning in his voice. “Kiss me till I am sick of it.”

Lance was happy to oblige.


End file.
